A Man, Not A Weak Man Ii Poem by Angela Bontle Ditumiso

He is lost,
No longer sees the point of living.
Last night he played with a handful of pills.
He pictured himself finally free from his pain
And smiled
Today he put a bight around his neck
Stood before a mirror and pretended it's a tie
He wonders what he'd look like hanging from the rafters

Would he look like someone worth hanging on to?
Would she regret leaving him then?
Would she wish him back?
‘Love me when I'm gone'
He pictures her lying over his grave,
Chanting spells to summon him from the land of the dead.
Snatch him from death's grip

He pictures himself free from the hurt.
Smiles at the thought.
He hates being haunted by her memories.
Hates that his heart beats only for her still.

He is a man.
Having lost his grip.
He keeps running between -
A yawning grave and the mouth of a bar,
Trying to douse his feelings.
After all he is a man asked to not feel what he feels.